


Incocksication

by quittersneverwin



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, hanah rlly likes courf/R im sorry, it was going to be porn but idk how penises work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quittersneverwin/pseuds/quittersneverwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it was going to be drunken comfort sex but i chickened out i am so sorry</p><p>basically both Courfeyrac and Grantaire need cheering up</p><p>note: my friend ('the most amazing brilliantest person in the whole wide world') came up with the title and it was too brilliant to let slide</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incocksication

**Author's Note:**

> please dont laugh at me i am the biggest virgin ever and idk how dongles

If, of an evening, you ever wanted to find Grantaire, a pretty safe bet was the place serving the most alcoholic drink in closest vicinity to his last encounter with Enjolras. It was there that he spent his time watching the sky grow darker along with his mood. He would slump, with a drink held firmly in his grasp, and watch the world go around him. His friends all knew this wasn't good for him and, as often as they could, would accompany him to stop him getting himself into serious danger.

On this particular day, Courfeyrac had put himself forward for the task. He could use a drink of his own as well. He hadn't had a great week and, although he usually tried to be bubbly in front of his friends, he could feel himself becoming more and more moody. Maybe some hard earned alcohol would help him.

As the two friends settled down - Courfeyrac had insisted that they started with a fairly mild beer - they began to talk. They started out by recounting funny moments but, as the two became more intoxicated - the beers just kept on coming - the stories became darker and the topic turned more and more towards tales of heartbreak and rejection. Apparently, become so confident and loud took time which, according to Courfeyrac, meant plenty of opportunity to get hurt. 

The two left the bar in rather a worse state than before, clinging to one another for support. Since Grantaire's flat was closer and they hadn't left enough money for a taxi, it was decided that they would both crash there for the night.

They reached the small flat much quicker than expected given the fact that neither of the two could walk in a straight line for very long. Although, the quick plunge into the river caused by avoiding a cyclist may have helped their sobriety somewhat.

Courfeyrac leaned heavily onto Grantaire as the latter fumbled with the door key. He realised suddenly, most likely aided by the alcohol in his system, that his friend was actually quite attractive. Years of kick boxing and dance had made his body slightly on the thinner side of toned. His skin was tanned and shining from where the water still clung. Courfeyrac absolutely did not notice the single drop that crept below his friend's shirt line. He swallowed, painfully aware of the fact that his trouser were clinging to him thanks to the water.

Finally, the door opened and the two men found their way inside, still largely attached to one another. They were both ignoring the fact that both of them were, in fact, perfectly steady on their feet. Grantaire leant heavily on the wall, slightly out of breath - his flat was up five flights of stairs - and tipped his head back. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Courfeyrac couldn't concentrate on anything other than the fact that the shirt that artist was wearing, appropriately covered with paint stains, was slightly too small for him and had ridden up slightly at the front, leaving a small slip of dark gold skin bared.

This whole thing was ridiculous. Courfeyrac had seen Grantaire shirtless before, they were close friends and had made trips to the beach etc. How had he not noticed how good looking he was? 

Before he could even properly register what he was doing, Courfeyrac had crossed the room. He was standing inches away from Grantaire. He was a great believer in casual sex to make one feel better and, it seemed like, based on what he had heard tonight, that his friend was definitely someone who needed cheering up. 

Egged on both by the idea that he would be helping and by the slight fuzziness at the corner of his vision, Courfeyrac gently cupped the side of Grantaire's face. He lent in slowly and closed his eyes as their mouths met. His friend smelt good, like paint and some sort of woody cologne, and his lips were warm against Courfeyrac's. He couldn't stop himself twisting his hands into Grantaire's hair and, as a response, he felt warm limbs wrap around his own waist.

Grantaire was far more drunk than Courfeyrac but he was also much more used to dealing with it. He soon became impatient with the soft, drowsy kisses he was being provided with and stretched onto his toes to deepen the kiss. In response, Courfeyrac ground his hips closer to Grantaire and, after unwinding his hair from the mass of curls, began to tug his shirt up.

Breathing heavily, Grantaire pulled back and stared up and Courfeyrac. He had a mischievous glint in his bright eyes. "Are you sure?" It was well known amongst the group that, on occasion, Courfeyrac would have what he liked to call 'cheer up sex'. He said it was "good for the soul" but, just in case, Grantaire had to check.  
Courfeyrac nodded as determinedly as he could given how distracted he was with both the pressure in his trousers and the man in front of him. He let himself be led through the paint splattered apartment to a smallish bedroom where Grantaire just leant against the door and watched him. He seemed oddly unsure which was strange. Courfeyrac had always imagined - not that he had imagined Grantaire in the bedroom - being more, well, with it. More like he knew what he was doing. 

Apparently, it seemed that Courfeyrac would have to take the lead - not that he minded; all sex was good sex in his world. He crossed the room and, as gently as he could, lifted Grantaire's shirt over his head. His eyes raked down the thin body in front of him. He was tanned, presumably from painting topless in the sun, which Courfeyrac had been lucky enough to see him do before. 

Seemingly coming back into control of his body, Grantaire lurched forward, pressing his lips hard against Courfeyrac's before they both lost their balance and toppled backwards onto the bed. The artist grinned down at his friend and started unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing. Courfeyrac lay back and felt small kisses being pressed to each part of newly bared skin. 

Suddenly, the body above him lurched up and Grantaire was nuzzling against his neck. Taking advantage of this distraction, Courfeyrac rolled the two so he straddled his friend, their chests pressed together. He sat up, effectively pinning Grantaire down, and rocked his hips. The man underneath him arched his back and smiled, raking his nails down Courfeyrac's chest. His hands stopped at the top of his jeans and he began to undo the clasp. Courfeyrac rocked his hips again as the button came undone and leant down to reclaim Grantaire's mouth. 

Once again, the pair rolled but they were stopped by meeting the wall. They both lay on their sides, almost impossible entwined and breathing hard into each other's mouths. Grantaire, who he had originally seemed distant, seemed to have finally caught on to what was happening, pushed his hips forward so Courfeyrac was pinned against the wall. 

After much struggling, the two managed to rid themselves of their jeans and lay together. Courfeyrac wound his hands through Grantaire's hair, and felt the latter's hands cup his arse.

Finally, Courfeyrac couldn't bear it any longer. This all felt very pleasant but he needed more. He moved down, planting gentle kisses and soft nips all the way, so he was mouthing above the waistband of the boxers Grantaire was wearing. He suddenly felt nervous. He had done this countless times but, still, Grantaire was so upset and this seemed to matter to him. Courfeyrac was worried about doing something wrong. 

Reminding himself that this was simply casual, he reached up and slid Grantaire's boxers down. He glanced up and saw blue eyes staring down at him as though the artist was almost in awe of him. Reassured, Courfeyrac pulled down the pair of boxers in front of him.

He knew he was good, he'd had enough practice, but Grantaire seemed almost overwhelmed. Now that he thought about it, Courfeyrac had never actually seen him get off with someone, only dote over their fearless leader. As Grantaire moaned above him, Courfeyrac almost pitied him. He was totally in love with someone who appeared never to look his way and, yet, he carried on, he still came to the meetings because that was his whole existence. 

Grantaire arched his back and entwined his hands into his friend's hair. "Enjolras." He moaned as he relaxed. Courfeyrac moved so he was lying beside him again.

"Did you call me Enjolras?" Grantaire looked like he was expecting some tirade of fury to wash over him. He turned red and rolled so he was facing away from his friend. He seemed to mumble some form of apology but it was muffled by the pillow. Courfeyrac was at as loss as to what to do. "I can leave if you want?" But the curls trembled as Grantaire shook his head. Ignoring the pressure in his pants Courfeyrac moulded his body to the one beside him and, wrapping one arm around his friend's waist after pulling the duvet up over them both, he drifted into sleep to the sound of Grantaire's steady breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to katherine (rowly powly) for proofreading  
> if you have any feedback i will smooch you


End file.
